The Faceless Wasteland
by KiroJakeandJamie
Summary: This story chronicles the adventures of three unlikely companions, Kiro "The Faceless" Yakimochi, "Almighty Dirty" Jake, and John Cromley, Ph.D. Currently, it is only two chapters long, and will be added onto if everybody is interested. This is a combined works, between three authors. This is a crossover of sorts, between Fallout: 3, Fallout: Project Brazil, and Fallout: New Vegas.
1. Chapter 1, Kiro The Faceless Yakimochi

Chapter One: Kiro "The Faceless" Yakimochi

Kiro Yakimochi, a young ex-vault dweller orphan from Vault 18 in the California wastes was

setting up his camp and preparing to settle down after yet another one of his caravans he decided to tag along with wound up getting destroyed by the cruel and unforgiving wastes. After many miles of walking, traveling, and wandering – he was fucking tired, and just wanted to relax and attempt to forget the fact that yet another one of his caravans perished from these goddamned wastes. He took off his old scuffed-up Sierra Madre Security helmet, and stared into the reflective see-through mirror visor and sighed at the sight of his face, and the small amounts of scratches and scars on his face. Kiro put down his helmet, and picked up a pack of cigarettes he lifted from the pack Brahmin, named "Casey" and opened the pack, pulling out the first cigarette in the row, and closing the pack. He rooted around in his satchel for his zippo lighter, and leaned back on the wall letting out a loud sigh and putting the now-lit cigarette into his mouth. Kiro started humming "Fly Me to the Moon", while pulling out his old, tarnished Magnum Research BFR .45-70 Gov't. Kiro opened the chamber, and pulled out the spent cartridges and loaded it with the small amount of ammunition he has left. "Goddamned mutants. Costing me my good fucking rounds… these things are not cheap or common… fuck." Kiro said coldly and

angrily. "I wish for once, just once that the company I choose to delve myself into is not completely wiped from the face of the Earth." Kiro let out a loud exasperated sigh, and holsters his weapon. He, ran his hand through his matted and dirty black hair, and rubs his eyes. "I cannot go to sleep just yet, I have to stay on-guard. Make sure this shitty hellhole is safe. I do not want to die while I fucking sleep with a knife through my chest." Kiro gets off of the wall, takes a heavy puff of his cigarette and flicks it on the ground. Kiro roots through his satchel again, and pulls out a small, worn-down photograph of two people – his parents. Letting out another heavy sigh, and plopping down onto the ground he states coldly "Why did they have to bring me to that stupid goddamn vault? I guarantee you we would have died all the same… but I could have had my parents for a few more years… but… my mother was indeed a pain in the ass… angry just to be angry. My father, though… my poor father… he did so much for us." Kiro then wipes away a tear, and groans. "I cannot say I didn't hate Vault 18… it was safe. But goddamn it those fucking kids. Those goddamned terrible kids. Doctor Rossman was always nice to me, but those fucking Jocks, and that Bragg with his fucking "Patriots" doomed us all. I guess it was a fitting end, though… and I can only presume all of those fucking Jocks are rotting in a firey hell, alongside Bragg." Kiro then lays back onto the ground, staring up at the stars. "I cannot say my current mental-state is a terrible one… I am cold, calculating, ruthless. I hate humanity, and there is a strong chance humanity feels the same way. Never have I wanted to be separated from humanity so badly; I enjoy, no… crave solitude – the very idea of moving alone sounds amazing... but no human with his grasp upon humanity was meant to surrender the comfort received from the company of others… no. Only the unloved and the unnatural hate. I guess I am both." Kiro chuckles at the idea of there being a happier version of himself… he always seemed upset, almost as if he never had a childhood. Letting out a satisfied chuckle, he sits up – not wanting to fall asleep and run the risk of getting killed here.

Kiro chuckles, remembering something he heard while venturing with his first caravan "Lucky

Loads Caravaneers" Kiro and his caravan stopped in some old Mormon or pseudo-Christian city, and he stopped off in some worn-down shop. The keeper inside was kind-enough, but he scared Kiro with hi religious zealotry, he proclaimed some giant bearded-motherfucker would come from the sky, and smite all of the non-believers and send them to a firey-hell while still proclaiming "I still love all of my children!" Kiro greatly considered putting this poor bastard out of his misery, it almost seemed fitting, he appeared to be demented. If some bearded epitome of power was watching over us, and he was proclaimed to be the loving figure he is, why did he let all of this happen – no, there is no God, and it is almost sad to think some people still believe there is some magical epitome of power watching over all of us. Although, he still thought of this being just innocent-thinking he still found it to be quickly shook these thoughts from his head, deciding he had no room to think as such if he was not comfortable with religion in the first place. He stood up, and decided to visit the attack site of his current caravan, to see if he could find anything else on the corpses of the others or to ensue nobody survived, because if they did – he would put them down… he did not have the medical supplies or know-how to treat any severe wounds, and those goddamned monsters were armed to the tooth with Miniguns; even if he brandished any know-how, those Miniguns would certainly cause more wounds than he can ever hope to treat. He was lucky enough that the mutants fled as they began to fall to him. He walked up to the corpse of the most annoying little bastard in the caravan, a man known simply as "Joe" he took a good gut-shot, followed by a giant board of nails to the head; to summarize – he looked like utter shit. Joe was clad in an old, worn-down caravaneer outfit

standard-issue to anybody in this caravan that was headed by the NCR. It had several large holes in it from the gunfire, and it was thoroughly-drenched in blood. It looked as if his death was painful… and to be honest, it was. Kiro could remember him screaming something fucking absurd as he died, presumably it was just shock-induced. He grabbed his bag, and opened it. He found several bottles of Nuka-Cola, a few bottles of clean water, and a few magazines. "Leave it to this useless bastard to not carry any fucking food." Kiro groaned. He then put the bag on the ground next to the corpse, and walks off to the next mangled body. This is the body of a female, she was the medic; her name escapes Kiro because he did not like her, she was an asshole. Her uniform could not even be determined; she was torn to shreds, she took quite some hellfire and not much was left of her corpse, but what was left looked like ground-meat. Kiro grabbed her riddled bag and small medical satchel and rooted through it, finding a handful of stimpacks, a few spent stimpacks, two rolls of gauze, and to his utter surprise… drugs, she had a small amount of Jet, Psycho, and Steady; Kiro let out a loud sigh, and thought to himself "So that's why she always seemed so goddamn shaky… good thing I never needed her services." throwing the drugs on the ground, and rooting through her bag now – he came across even more goddamn drugs, and a small can of "Cram". He smirked to himself, and chuckled; he REALLY enjoyed Cram. Kiro puts the bag down on the ground, and walks up to the next form. He was not dead, far from it – he was just badly wounded. "Ki… Kiro! Please… for the love of fuck help me…" the man cried. The man was the caravan guard, Orchard-Picard he was clad in the common NCR Bandolier Armor, complete with an old M2 Steel Helmet from over three hundred years in the past. The man was badly-wounded, taking several shots to the stomach, and his legs were an utter fucking mess, one-hundred percent destroyed. Kiro let out a loud sigh, and proclaimed "Goddamn it, Orchard. I can't help you. You know that. I was never a medic, and anyway… look at what is left of you… nobody could save you." Orchard groaned in utter pain "Then fucking kill me! I ca… I can't go on like this! I mean fuck, look at my legs! They're nearly fucking gone!" Kiro unholsters his BFR, and cocks the hammer back "You know, Orchard. I liked you… I will regret this greatly." Orchard smiled, and then that smile was extinguished after a loud *BOOM* and a short amount of light. Kiro shot him in the head. He let out a sigh, and thought to himself "I may need the supplies… but I cannot do this to him." Kiro grabbed his mangled body, and put him into a respectable position. Kiro swore loudly, and grabbed his cigarettes again. "These may kill me… but who gives a shit. I am just about as unloved as a hunk of shit drying in the sun. I would rather die from these, anyway. Knowing this shithole, if I were to die any other way; it would be utterly painful." Kiro began rooting around in his satchel for his lighter again. He found it, and pulled it out. It did not look like much, but Kiro loved the thing, and it seemed to love him back. It seemed to have a never-ending source of butane. He flipped the lid, and lights his cigarette. He took a large puff, and blew out a large amount of the cigarette back into his mouth, he walked back to his humble campsite, and sat down on the ground again. He glanced over his Pip-Boy on his left arm, and shrugged at it. It came from Vault 18, and thanks to it – he only wore one glove. But he did not mind it, he actually liked it. The thing allowed him to listen to music as he wandered. Kiro looked at his uniform, it was the uniform of the Enclave "Patriots", he wore it as a big, fat fuck-you to the Enclave Patriots that destroyed Vault 18. It was a worn-and-stained navy-blue, and had some obvious seams running along the arms and legs. The buttons, unlike the ones common to the Enclave Officer's uniform, which this uniform is based on – was tarnished silver. Kiro liked the color navy-blue, he always had. The giant "E" on his back, surrounded by stars was a bit of a put-off, but he had the materials to cover it so it would just be another giant patch of navy blue. Kiro took another puff of his cigarette, and thought to himself "I really enjoy nights like this… if it were not for another caravan under my watch getting wiped out… this would be a pretty good damn night." Kiro pulled up his Pip-boy and looked at the time. It was really late, but he still did not feel comfortable falling asleep in the middle of this more-than-likely unsafe hellhole. Kiro unhinged his belt, and took his katana off of his side. Kiro rehinged his belt, and looked over the somewhat-worn katana. The saya was covered in a hard, light brown leather and it was lined with metal. It boasted a dark-blue iaito on the end and loop for the belt-holder, the tsuki was covered in a blue iaito, and the tsuba depicted some ancient battle, one he could never know the origin of. He pulled the katana out of the saya, and gawked at the worn blade covered in dirt and blood. He took one last puff of his nearly-done-for cigarette, and flicked it on the ground. Stretching to get comfortable again Kiro's focus immediately snapped back to his katana's dirty and worn-down blade. It had small contact marks, where some poor bastard's knife clashed with his katana before his belligerent perished

at his hand. He just smirked at the katana, thinking back on all of the times it has saved his ass from getting skewered and left for dead. Kiro put the katana down next to his bedroll, and stood up yet again. He decided to change into lighter clothing, so he could relax. He was incredibly uncomfortable, it was – like it always was, painfully fucking hot. He took off his boots, and jacket; but kept the trousers on, afterwards he folded up his clothing, and put it at the foot of his improvised bed. He stretched and let out a loud sigh. Looking at his Pip-boy again, he realized it was far too late to go to sleep and not be spotted by somebody walking down the torn-to-pieces road. He decided to pack everything, and climb into an old destroyed building. He found a nice building with a difficult route up, but an easy route down and set up on a ledge with a decent view. He set up a lantern, and pulled up a small chunk of rebar-filled concrete, and sat down; leaning against the wall. "I guess I can sleep now… it would be pretty goddamn difficult to find me here…" he declared with a loud yawn. He got up and stretched, and laid down upon

his bedroll, letting out another loud yawn. Kiro fell asleep quickly after hitting the somewhat comfortable, padded bedroll. His dreams were no different tonight, from his usual dreams. They were heavy-laden with physchodelicacy, colors, vague shapes, abstract images… unusual shit, that makes people not give a shit if they have dreams. He gets up slowly, and stretches. Kiro grabs his jacket and boots, and puts them on. He slowly buttons his jacket, still drowsy. Kiro looks down at his Pip-boy, and checks the time. Kiro shrugs whenever he sees itis twelve thirty-six PM, and grabs his helmet; with a loud yawn he dons his helmet and grabs his katana, and BFR holster and hinges it to his belt. He grabs his revolver and takes out the empty cartridge from last night's… misfortune, and replaces it with another round. Looking into his satchel, he realizes he is still running low on .45-70 Gov't rounds, and still has very little food and supplies. Kiro thought to himself, and decided to root around in some old store he passed by before his caravan was destroyed to make an attempt to find more supplies which he desperately needed.

Kiro packed up his small camp, and hid it in the corner – knowing he would be back very soon to relax and attempt to eat if he could find more food than this one small can of Cram. Climbing down the same route he used to climb into this small nest, he got through the route easily – much more-so than he did to climb up. Kiro dusted himself off, and walked over to the small shopping mart and reached for the doorknob, but he stopped himself. He heard movement from within the building and unholstered his BFR and cocked the hammer back, he slowly reached for the knob again; he lightly grabbed it, and slowly turned it and to his happiness… the door was not locked. So he would not need to make a commotion to get inside. Kiro got down, and snuck around to attempt to find the source of the noise. He stopped next to the doorway, and scanned the room. It was run-down, as was everything here. Most of the shelves were tipped over, and a small Nuka-Cola vending machine was tipped over and open, full of bottles both empty and full. He decided after he could find the target, he would grab as much as he can. He returned his eyes to the room, it was scattered with rusty cans and garbage. He kept looking about… he knew he heard something. Kiro decided to sneak through the store quietly and attempt to find the thing, or person that made the noise so he can go on with his gathering.

Kiro set off down the non-obstructed isles, and saw a dirty bastard, wearing garbage. The bastard was obviously a Raider. He reeked of death, and Kiro was about to end his life. The NCR warned him of the dangers here. One of which would be these raiders, dirty, shittily-clad human garbage, that loves nothing more than anarchy and drugs. Kiro kept sneaking down upon him, making no noise what-so-ever. But then… his katana hit an empty can, and the Raider must have been utterly distracted, or high out of his mind… either way, he was about to have no head. So it did not matter, Kiro kept closing down upon him, and finally he was right behind him. Kiro stood up silently, and aimed the match-barrel at the lower-most part of his skull, where the spine meets the skull; and pulled the trigger. The Raider slumped over the counter he was standing next to, Kiro immediate dropped down to his pockets, and began rooting through them in an attempt to find supplies or food on his person, then he adverted his attention to the matted and raggedy old backpack, and roots through it as well. Kiro found plenty of food, more-than-enough to sustain him for several weeks, and a small amount of Medical supplies, most of which was dirty. To the point of it being absolutely foolish to use it. On his way out, he turned to the Nuka-Cola machine, and took all of the full bottles and went on his way. His satchel was overflowing with food and Cola. Just the way he liked it. Kiro holstered his revolver and was making his way out whenever he heard speaking. "Shit! There must be more goddamned Raiders in this fucking place…" he thought to himself. Kiro unholstered his revolver yet again, and removed the spent cartridge from his earlier meeting with a Raider, and loaded it with another round. Kiro only had ten more .45-70 Gov't rounds. But he was sure to keep all of the spent cartridges. Kiro closed the chamber and cocked the hammer and removed his satchel. Kiro began sneaking through the store again, he saw the two Raiders standing over the corpse of the one Kiro shot. Both kept calling the now-dead Raider "Ezekiel" Kiro chuckled to himself and the fact that people of the intelligence and civility as a Raider would have such eloquent and reformed names. Kiro immediately shook this from his thoughts and went on towards the unsuspecting Raiders. Kiro managed to avoid

being spotted, and got on the side of the two Raiders. He decided to be unique with it. He holstered hisrevolver and then his hand went to his katana, and he grabbed the tsuba and began to unsheathe it quietly, shortly after Kiro immediately jumped up and charged the two Raiders – he loudly screamed "Tenno-heika Banzai! Kogeki! Rrraaaaaggghhhh!" (The vault's Holotapes had recordings of narrations about Japan from some old war… he can remember this being one of the things they screamed as a terrifying war cry.) and he cut the arm of one of the now-shocked Raiders off, and blood spurted out while the Raider crumpled to the ground screaming in agony and pain. The other Raider drew his old, worn-down 9mm Handgun and aimed it at Kiro. The Raider fired at him, but missed pathetically. He must have been utterly terrified. Kiro skewered the Raider with his katana, impaling him through his rib-cage. This had a lot less blood, but far more pain. The Raider screamed obscenities at Kiro, and dropped his handgun now focusing on the blade driven through his chest. His breathing became labored, and shallower. The Raider looked into the helmet of Kiro, and saw himself dying. The Raider gasped another empty threat and obscenity towards Kiro, and perished. The other Raider was in the corner, holding his shoulder and crying. It was obvious this Raider meant no harm to him, or anyone else anymore. Kiro crouched down to his eye-level, and caught his attention. The Raider looked up to him, and said blatantly; "I swear to fucking God… my friends will find you, and eat your fucking heart… you fucking monster." Kiro chuckled and stood up and kicked the fuck out of the Raider's shoulder. The Raider cried out in utter pain, no-longer grasping his shoulder he was now reaching down for the fallen 9mm with his one good arm. Kiro smiled, and stomped on his hand. The Raider let out another cry of utter pain. It looked like he was going to black out. Kiro crouched back down to eye-level with the Raider. "I, you piece of shit… am not the monster here. Look at yourself. You're a piece of shit. I would not even spit in your general direction. I will show you mercy. If you live feel free to tell your other piece-of-shit friends about what happened here. So be it. I'll fucking kill them, too. Do you know what? I WANT you to tell them. Tell them of what happened here. I want you to. I adore a good fight." Kiro stoops over, and picks up the 9mm; dismantling it, and throwing the slide, firing pin, firing spring, trigger mechanism, and clip across the room in random places across the store. The Raider looks back up at Kiro and coughs, then goes on to say "I will tell all of my friends. They will hunt you down…" his speech is interrupted by a loud cough "…and I will fucking see to it you die painfully… you piece of fucking shit…" Kiro nods, and chuckles then proceeds to walk out of the store. He stops at the door, and grabs his satchel. Smiling, Kiro knew the Raider would never live to warn his friends, and he would be out of a nice gunfight with a few strung-out shits. He walked back to his small camp set up inside of the ruins of that building, and put his satchel full of food and supplies down on the ground next to his bedroll, and began organizing everything. He found six cobs of fresh maize, a bag of dried apples, three cans of Pork n' Beans, two more cans of Cram to add to the one he already owned, six bottles of Nuka-Cola, two boxes of Atomic Gum Drops, and four boxes of Potato Crisps. He chuckled as he thought to himself "TonightI feast like a king!" and he followed that thought with "Bah. What a shitty joke…" Kiro pushed his helmet over his mouth, and scratched his chin. He sat back down on the small rebar-and-cement chair, and pulled up a dirty-looking bottle of Nuka-Cola, and opened the cap on the chunk of cement hanging off of some rebar in the wall, and drunk down a little of it. His helmet fell down back over his mouth and Kiro let out a soft "Fuck" and took off his helmet, and drank the bottle until it was nearly-empty. He stood up and gawked at the street below, and sees his old Raider friend walking down the road. "Well. It looks like he lived!" Kiro laughed, "It looks like I may just get that fight I was looking for!" Kiro smiled to himself, and went back to his bottle of Cola. He swigged down the last of it, and grabbed his helmet again. He looked at his reflection in the helmet, and smiled at his large sideburns that he sports so well underneath his helmet. Kiro ran his hand through his shaggy sideburns, and smirked, thinking to himself, "I like these things. Others may not, but fuck em'. These are some goddamn-fine sideburns." Kiro took off his belt and rested it on a piece of rebar protruding out of the wall, and watched it dangle. He reached for his revolver, and pulled it out of the old worn leather holster. Kiro rooted around inside of his dirty leather satchel and pulled out a small maintenance kit, and began working away at the damage on his revolver. He took the restraining pin out of the revolver, and put the chamber to the side of him, and began cleaning the barrel with a small wire-bristle brush and knocked all of the dust buildup out of the barrel, as it sprinkled down he frowned and said "Fucking filthy place. I am surprised ANYONE'S firearms can function well in these conditions." He grabbed a small bottle of multi-purpose gun oil, and dismantled the firing mechanism, oiling the trigger mechanism, and then removing the custom-build hammer, and oiled it as well, putting all of the pieces back into place. Kiro grabbed the chamber for his revolver and ran a wire-brush through that as well after removing all of his rounds. He fit the chamber back into the housing, and placed the restraining pin back into its proper housing. He grabbed a small bottle of solution and begins polishing the frame and chambers. After a few minutes of working away at the grime of the wastes, he smiled at the nice sheen the revolver put off. He smiled and chuckled whenever he heard the name of it while looking through some old holotapes in Vault 18. Magnum Research, Big-Frame Revolver (BFR) often dubbed "Big Fucking Revolver" after seeing that, he knew that he needed one. Kiro picked an awful chambering, though. The .45-70 Gov't Round is so rare, he may as well just scavenge up another chambering in .30-30 Winchester. "Maybe give myself more of a fighting chance with finding ammunition." He thought to himself. "This would not be an issue if there would be a goddamned Gun Runner's somewhere around here. But this goddamned place is like a third-world shithole. Well…more-so than any other place here." Kiro concluded to himself. He let out a loud sigh, and said softly "I am beyond fucking bored… I guess I can listen to some music, and just relax. I am sure I am fine, for now… I should keep quiet, though. This area is far too dangerous to party about here." Kiro poked around on his Pip-boy, and accessed the Radio portion of his Pip-boy. He saw two stations… Enclave Radio. Kiro frowned, and almost took off his Pip-boy… but he shrugged, and continued navigating the radio panel. Kiro came across another station, "Galaxy News Radio" Kiro smiled and thought to himself "I may as well listen to this… I was trying to make my way there, anyway before my goddamned caravan was dashed upon the rocks of the dirty shore known as the Wasteland." Kiro tuned into Galaxy News Radio, and the flamboyant radio personality let out a loud wolf-like howl, and declared his name proudly. "Hooooowwwwwwwllll! My name is Three-daaawg!" Kiro remembered the name, he was the buyer of the order, and before the caravan was destroyed, Three-Dog and the Brotherhood of Steel ordered quite a lot of Energy-weapons. Laser Rifles, Laser Pistols, Plasma Pistols, Plasma Defenders, Plasma Casters… but the supplies were destroyed in the firefight, or stolen by those big fucking asshole mutants. He was so upset now, remembering his caravan perished for no reason, thathe was not even paying attention to the radio, which was playing one of his favorite songs, "Fly Me to the Moon" sung by Frank Sinatra. He immediately flushed his thoughts out, and began singing loudly and clearly. Kiro was always happy whenever listening to music, it had a calming effect upon him. Kiro grabbed a box of Potato Crisps, and opened it and pulled out the contents and began eating awayat them slowly, savoring the salty, somewhat bland taste; enjoying himself with great music. He grabbed another bottle of Nuka-Cola, and opened it on the same chunk of cement as the first bottle, and takes a long, drawn-out swig. He puts the bottle on the ground, and keeps indulging himself on chips.

After his somewhat-satisfactory meal, Kiro grabbed the garbage and threw it down

the hole that leads to his campsite. He checked his Pip-boy for the time, while paying little mind to the radio. It was five twenty-six PM, fairly late. He shrugged, and grabbed his belt off of his rebar rack and wrapped the belt around his waist, again. He clasped the belt, then picked up his revolver off of the improvised stool, and walked back onto the street. The corpses from his caravan were gone, he can only presume the Super Mutants came back to take away the corpses of his fellow workers. He saw long trails of blood, and the spatter of blood from his friend. He sighed and continued along the crimson path. He wanted revenge. He wanted those fucking monsters to pay. He looked at the streaks of blood on the mangled cement, tracing them like a hound; tracking his kill. Kiro saw were the crimson trail ended. Directly in-front of a huge sky-scraper, it was a giant twisted mass of concrete, rebar, and metal beams. He cocked the hammer of his revolver back, and snuck into the giant doorway made by the Super Mutants. Compared to other Super Mutants, these had a bit more intelligence. Making shelter inside of a destroyed building. It must have saved them quite a lot of work in the long-run. Kiro frowned as he entered, seeing bags of gore and flesh lining the walls. He stepped in a giant pool of freshly pooled blood. This must have been one of his fellow caravaneers. The blood is fresh, more-so than anything else. Kiro leaned on a wall, and shook his leg to remove some of the blood off of his dirty black boots. He continued on inside of the den, he recalled the minigun armed Super Mutants being badly-wounded. Kiro felt as if he had a fighting chance inside of this den of death and carnage.

Kiro continued along inside of the building, the first area he checked was a giant

crater, left by the building's formation collapsing into the basement. He saw one Super Mutant, doing imbecilic shit to his gun. It seemed as if he was just hammering away at it with a sledgehammer. Fucking moronic bastards. He stood up, and walked quietly behind the giant bastard. He aimed his revolver at that same sweet-spot as before with the Raider, and pulled the trigger. With a satisfying retort from his hand cannon, and a loud grunt from the Super Mutant, he slumped over his table and gun, crushing both. Kiro turned around to begin walking out of the crater, but stopped in his tracks. He heard a Super Mutant lumbering himself into the room, Kiro jumped and hid behind a chunk of the foundation of the building. The Super Mutant must have been blind, he did not notice Kiro, he waddled directly past him. On his way out, Kiro drew his katana, and cut his leg clean off in one fell swoop. The Super Mutant screamed in utter agony, and he kicked him over cocking the hammer back on his revolver and blasting his brains onto the mangled concrete floor. Kiro sheathed his katana, and cocked the hammer of his revolver yet again. He continued on throughout the mangled building. He came across another Super Mutant, this one surprisingly playing around with a Stealth Boy. Kiro cleared his throat loudly, and intentionally. The hulking figure turned around, and grabbed a large board with nails in it. Kiro aimed his revolver at his upper-forearm, and pulled the trigger. With a loud retort from his revolver, the Super Mutant dropped the giant plank, and screamed in agony. His forearm must be destroyed. Kiro holstered his revolver, and unsheathed his katana yet again. He charged towards the wounded Super Mutant and slashed at his legs, one fell off, the other took a deep laceration. The bastard collapsed to the ground and Kiro kicked the mutant over. Kiro decided to be theatric, even if nobody was watching. He stood over the mutant, and declared loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear him "I am Kiro, the Faceless! I am a harbinger of death, a dealer in pain and agony! A dark avenger!" the Super Mutant stared up at the small navy-blue clad human, utterly shocked. (And probably confused. It seems as if the hulking green bastard had the same firm grasp upon English as the inbred mutants far to the south.)Kiro started up again, "I show no mercy, those whom encounter me do the same! If I am to perish! I shall perish avenging the innocents of Vault 18! The people of "Lucky Loads"! The people of "Dark Trails"! All innocents to perish in my lifetime… all those I have known, and loved." His deep voice boomed throughout the concrete mega-structure. He held his katana high above his head, posed to stab down into the head of the Super Mutant. He continued on again, "You shall be one of the first to pay! You area piece of garbage, I shall extinguish you in your prime – as you and your kind has done to the people of "Dark Trails"!" The katana landed home at its target, clanking loudly as it tore through the Super Mutant's already-mangled helmet, and making a loud appealing contact-noise as it was driven through his head. Kiro stomped on the monster's neck, and pulled the katana out of his head. His loud theatric speech attracted another Super Mutant. This one unarmed, but just as dangerous as the others. The mutant let out a loud, earth-shaking yell "RRRAAAAAGGGHHH! ME CRUSH HUMAN, THAT CRUSH ME FRIEND!" Kiro readied his katana, the enraged Super Mutant readied his hands into an overhead axe-hammer strike. Kiro held his katana above his head in a blocking-like motion he picked up from many holotapes, and charged the mutant that delivered his blow. He howled in pain as his fist clashed with the katana, he nearly cleaved his own hand in half. Kiro readied his katana in his own special strike he thought up while on the trails. He let out a loud yell, and held his katana backwards with one hand and struck the Super Mutant in the stomach, then swept back and cleaved his forearm in half. Blood spurted out of his arm, and the mutant screamed in agony, and doubled-over. Kiro readied an overhead strike aimed for the Super Mutant's head, and swung down onto his target. The katana barreled through his neck and head, leaving a deep laceration. The mutant crumpled to the ground. Kiro's katana was now painted crimson from the blood and death. It gleamed eerily in the setting sun through the large cracks and holes in the walls of the once-great superstructure. Kiro glided the blade through his gloved-hand, clearing off a large portion of the blade, and he sheathed it. It settled into the saya with a slight scraping noise, and a low clank. Kiro checked each corpse for ammo and supplies. He found a few boxes of .45-70 Gov't Rounds they must have recovered off of the caravan's supplies. Kiro chuckled to himself after checking each bloodied-and-dead mutant for supplies. As he left he thought to himself "Well… that was fun… I am glad I did the theatrics. Who gives a shit if the only thing that heard it was a dying mutant, and a pissed mutant. I guarantee myself it was horrifying for everything involved." Kiro looked back at the bags of gore and death, and let out a sigh. He did not like the idea that his friend was in one of those bags, but he did not want to root through that fucking mess just to recover somebody's corpse. Kiro thought to himself as he was walking back to his small campsite, "I would never avenge everybody, I have no reason to do-so. I hated most of those bastards in Vault 18, and most hated me, and I do not care what happened to those "Lucky Loads" caravaneers. They were afraid of me, or did not like me. Likewise for "Dark Trails". I will miss Orchard, however. He was always a very good friend, very loyal." Kiro shrugged, and climbed back into the route to his humble setup and got ready to settle-in for the night. It was around eight PM, he did not need to check his Pip-boy for the time.

Kiro was weary whenever he sat down on his improvised stool. He let out

a loud yawn, and unbuttoned his jacket. He grabbed a bottle of water from his satchel and took a drink putting the cap back onto the bottle, and put the bottle onto the floor next to his bedroll. He took off his jacket and folded it neatly, placing it next to his bedroll. He let out another loud yawn, and he took off his blood-covered helmet, and rubbed the back of his neck. He smiled whenever he glanced at his bedroll. After the events of the day, he wanted nothing more than to lay down, and go to bed. But he needed to eat just a bit before settling in to go to bed. He grabbed a can of Cram, and stabbed it with a small knife he kept in his bag, he pried open the can and began eating the somewhat bland pork by-product. While it was not incredibly tasty, it was filling and that was all that really mattered. He grabbed his bottle of water, which he could have sworn just got dirtier. He frowned and swore at the bottle yet again, and gulped down what was left of it. Kiro let out a little cough, and plopped down onto his bedroll, ready for his first true night of sleep. Kiro turned in at nine PM.

Yet again, Kiro's dreams were heavily riddled with the most undecipherable things

to ever cross anybody's mind. But this time, he dreamed of a woman… the same age as Kiro. They werein a small, beautiful (Beautiful compared to the wastes) field. It was heavy-laden with flowers, and overgrowth, but it was pleasant. The girl had the same general disposition as Kiro, but he cannot recall her name, if she even said her name. The dream was spotty, and Kiro could not even recall the dream in its entirety. Just that it involved an incredibly familiar woman. Kiro woke up at six forty-seven AM, and sat up slowly. He let out a long sigh, he could never remember the woman's name, or even what they would discuss… be he always enjoyed those dreams thoroughly. Kiro let out a loud yawn, and looked through the hole in his camp's wall. He saw a large group of loud Raiders. About fifteen of them, and at the helm, was Kiro's dear friend that he disarmed (Both metaphorically, and literally), calling for his blood. His shoulder was heavily-bandaged, but blood seeped through it. The Raiders referred to this badly-wounded Raider as simply "Cap'n". Kiro laughed at the absurdity of that name, but presumed his ACTUAL name could have been tenfold worse. Kiro realized the severity of this situation, he grabbed his jacket and belt, and quickly donned his helmet and jacket and belt. Kiro bolts from his camp, and sneaks around to find cover, the Raider's yells started to bore into Kiro's nerves. He started getting nervous. He knew it just took one mistake to get himself killed, and he was not willing to make this mistake. He darted from place-to-place to maintain cover. He had to determine how well-armed these bastards were. He noted most just had melee weapons, sledgehammers, swords made of car bumpers, golf clubs, and baseball bats. Some were armed well, carrying Plasma Rifles, Laser RCW's, FN-FAL Rifles, worn-down Chinese Assault Rifles, low-caliber Varmint Rifles, and .357-calibered Colt Polices. As he darted up again, one of the Raiders spotted him and yelled "OY' THERE HE IS! KILL THAT BASTARD!"Kiro knew he was now doomed to a gunfight, he may not win.

[END OF CHAPTER ONE]


	2. Chapter 2, Almighty Dirty Jake

Chapter Two: Dirty Jake, The Almighty

"Who… what do you want?" The dumbass said, shaking incredibly.

"I just want to know where you hid the kid. Oh look, your friend just stopped breathing. It was about time. We should check if his heart is still beating." Jake said, pulling out his knife and stabbing it into the dead man's chest.

"No! Please don't, I'll tell you!" and Jake pulled the knife out, wiping it on the sleeve of the man he just stabbed.

"Good" Jake said with a grin, admiring his knife's blade. "So? Are you going to tell me or not?"

"The kid is on the top floor in the first room on the left. Please don't kill me!" The man said, gripping on to Jake's right leg, and Jake shook him off.

"Are there any more of your friends I should be worried about?" Jake asked, gripping onto his .44.

"Only five others. They're not armed. I swear!"

"But you and your buddy here were both armed with pistols. Why do I feel like you're lying to me?" Jake pointed out, putting the barrel of his .44 to the mans head, then pulled the trigger. "I got my information. This meeting is over. Thanks bud." Jake then walked out of dark room, and emptied out his chamber, and inserted six more shots. Jake was doing a favor for someone in Rivet City, who's child was kidnapped by some dumb ass raiders. He had followed a group to this building, then ambushed two of the idiots, slitting one's throat, getting information out of the other, and killing him when he got what he wanted. Raiders don't deserve to live. Jake proceeded up the stairs till he got to the top floor. He opened the door to the hallway, and noticed a man sleeping next to the first room on the left, that had a "Do Not Disturb" note on the door knob. Jake ignored the sleeping raider, and opened the door and found a dead child on an old worn out couch, and seen a man relaxing on the balcony. Jake walked into the room. There was a kitchen on the left side, a bathroom door to his left, and the balcony was in front of him. In the kitchen he saw a man that had his head inside the refrigerator poking for food, and he heard a man and a woman in the bathroom. Jake sprinted to the balcony and took the man relaxing as a hostage, then shot the man in the thigh that was in the kitchen. Two nude people flung out of the bathroom, a man and a woman. They got to their feet, and looked for something to use as a weapon. "I would freeze if I were you." and they did. Jake slowly approached them with his hostage. Jake was holding his .44 to the hostage's head. "Where did you get this child, and which one of you killed him?" Jake demanded. All three of them claimed not to know where the kid came from, or how the kid died. Jake asked why they did it, and none of them answered. "It's too bad the kid is dead. If he was still alive, I probably would have let some of you live. I hate that it had to turn out like this." Then Jake shot the two lovers, then threw his hostage off the balcony. He watched as the man screamed all the way down, then listened to the pleasing crunch once the body hit the ground. All of a sudden the door flung open and the man that was sleeping was standing in the door way. "Top of the mornin' sleeping beauty." Jake said enthusiastically. "Would you mind cleaning up this mess?" Then the sleeping beauty clenched his fists and charged towards Jake. Jake flipped out his butterfly knife, and let the man charge into it. The man held Jake's wrists, that were holding a butterfly knife, that was now in the man's chest. He stared into Jake's eyes, stared at Jake's face, which was rotten, peeling, it wasn't just peeling, it was also unappealing. Sleeping beauty slowly died. Jake pushed him on to the floor, and held the dead child in his arms, and cried. Afterward, he stood up and wiped his eyes. He found a notepad with a pencil on the kitchen counter. On it he wrote, "ALMIGHTY DIRTY JAKE WAS HERE!" Then he wiped his eyes again, and walked back to Rivet City.

The walk from Rivet City to the raider hideout wasn't that far away. It was about an hour walk, or two hours if you're on a painful-knee-cramping crouch and following a group of dumb ass raiders. Once Jake got to Rivet City, one of the guards was there waiting for him at the front door. "If it isn't Dirty Jake!" The Guard, Mark Moore, said holding out his hand for a handshake.

"Mark, my man. How's it going?" Jake said, shaking Mark's hand.

"Not bad friend, but where's the kid?" Mark said, and then realized what had happened. Jake looked down, then back up and Mark to tell by Jake's face the kid didn't make it. "Spare me the details. The parent, Sarah, is still waiting for you though. Want me to lead you to her?"

"No, it's fine. I know where she is. Talk to you later Mark." Jake walked inside and headed to the market with his hands reaching for a cigarette in his pocket. He lit it with a match, and noticed Sarah rushing toward him. You could tell she was crying, the way she walked she looked like she was about to fall over every step she took. She was wearing a sleeping gown, and her hair was messy and tangled, like she just got out of bed. She ran up to Jake and hugged on him for a couple seconds.

"My baby… is he okay? Where is he? What happened to him?" Sarah looked at Jake's rotting face, and held Jake's decomposing hand. "Is he…" Jake cut her off.

"He's dead, Sarah. I'm sorry. I killed those responsible. I understand that won't bring your son back, but they won't harm anyone again, I can promise you that. I'm sorry I can't do more to help you." Jake tried to hold back his tears, but one slipped onto his cheek. Sarah noticed it and wiped it off, and she didn't say anymore. She walked away, slowly this time and somewhat shaken. Jake wanted to stop her. He wanted to do more for her, but feared he may make things worse. He feared she would think that he pitied her. No, he was going to let her heal on her own; he did what he could for Sarah. Although he killed the raiders, he couldn't stop thinking of the kid. He tried to get his mind off of it, but he couldn't.

Jake went to his room and took off his dark red, and slightly torn trench coat. The trench coat has a hole in the right shoulder, where Jake had been shot by a Super Mutant that was using a hunting rifle. The bastard got lucky when Jake had jumped for cover. Jake was luckier though. He was lucky that the Super Mutant had only got the one shot on him, and that it was only in his shoulder. Jake put so many bullets in that super mutant that the thing that finally killed the super mutant, was when Jake threw his .44 at it because he had ran out of ammo. The .44 had hit the mutant in between the eyes, and rendered him unconscious. Jake was so mad, he ripped the mutant's head off, and kicked it off of a bridge. There are a few cuts on the right arm, where he had gotten into knife fights. One cut in particular stands out from the rest, and is larger too. It goes from the shoulder to the elbow, and was caused by a raider pumped up on so much psycho the guy was practically insane. Jake will never forget that fight. Sometimes it even haunts his him in his sleep. Jake was jumped by the guy without warning, it was almost pitch black, and Jake was on his way back to Rivet City. The druggy jumped on to Jake, and tried to stab him but kept on missing. Jake went to push the guy off, and the knife slashed Jake from his shoulder to his elbow. Jake used his adrenaline to ignore the pain, and push the guy off, then shot the man six times. Jake still has the scar, and it aligns perfect with the tear on his trench coat. Jake examined his trench coat, admiring his history with it, then put it on a coat hanger in the corner of the room. He turned back to the bed, but then turned to the mirror. He rubbed his cheek, where Sarah had wiped the tear from his face. Not many women would touch a wasting-away ghoul. Jake noticed he still has hairs coming from his chin, where he had once had a sexy goatee. He even still had a few hairs above his upper lip, that once was a sexy mustache, but he was completely bald on the top of his head. He definitely didn't look like the man he used to be, now he looked like a zombie, although people didn't treat him like that in Rivet City. People treated him as a normal human being, and why wouldn't they? Jake does a lot for Rivet City. He goes out and gathers food, protects it, he does what he can. He wasn't getting paid to save Sarah's child, he volunteered because no one else in the city has the balls to do it. Jake was about to take off his red turtle neck, then he got an urge to drink, so he headed out of his room, locked it, then went to the bar on the ship. As he walked in one of his old drinking buddies waved for him. He really was an old man, probably around his late fifties. He told a lot of stories, none that really make sense, but he was a loyal friend.

"I'm so sorry about that kid lad, he was a good kid, and he had a long life." The old man ranted.

"He was twelve, old man." Jake sighed, and the old man didn't reply. Instead the old man passed out, and after finishing his shot, Jake left thirty bottle caps on the table, and a ten more as a tip. On the way out he heard a gunshot, and it sounded like it came from one of the rooms. He sprinted down stairs to the corridor, and seen everyone running into Sarah's room. Jake pushed everyone out of the way, and found Sarah in her bed, with blood splattered on the wall behind her, and a 10mm pistol on the ground. Jake fell to his knees, utterly shocked. Someone had put their hand on his shoulder. Jake turned around, and saw Mark. Mark patted Jake's shoulder, and helped him up.

"It'll be okay, Jake. We'll give her a good burial. I guess she believed there was nothing left to live for, with her child gone. Don't blame yourself; there was nothing you could do. If you need anything, come find me." Mark said, and it was comforting. Jake got up and nodded, then squeezed through the crowd of people curious to what had happened. Jake was filled with rage now. Why would she go and kill herself? Because she has nothing left to live for? Jake walked to his room, and punched the mirror, that shattered into several pieces. He then threw it behind him, and punched the wall several times. He looked at his hand, and seen pieces of glass coming out of his fingers, and his knuckles looked destroyed, but he felt nothing. He started to relax, and laid on his bed, and started plucking the glass from his fingers, and putting each piece into his ash tray. He started rubbing his cheek again, where Sarah had wiped the tear from his face. He wanted to feel her delicate touch again. He started to tear up again, but he sat up, and fought it. He was feeling gloomy.

"God Why do I feel this way? I hardly even knew her." Jake started questioning himself, "Of course I cried about the kid. He was smart and died so young… I cared about the fate of the kid. Perhaps it's because Sarah cared for me… and in return I cared for her, but I still hardly even knew her. Come on. You're Almighty Dirty Jake, and you don't cry. Come one Jake you're better than this. I need sleep." Jake opened up the top drawer of his nightstand pulled out a small box of YumYum Deviled Eggs, which he got from the market many weeks ago, and they didn't taste that bad. Jake rested his head on his dusty pillow, trying not to think of Sarah and her son. Instead he thought of the note he left on the kitchen counter in that raider hideout. Is it possible he made a mistake? What if they had found he was in Rivet City, and made an attempt to attack it? That would be stupid though, the guards here and fairly well armed with automatic rifles, and with Jake's help it wouldn't be very hard to defend, the guards plus Jake could easily take on a raider attack, but what if they waited to attack him? What if they attacked Jake when he was out scavenging for food, or doing anything at all outside of Rivet City? Jake could take six raiders easily, his .44 Magnum revolver holds six shots, and he rarely misses. Seven raiders, he'd have to quickly pull his balisong and stab or slice one to death. Eight raiders would be tricky, especially if it was a sneak attack. If he's ready for it he can withstand about ten raiders, or if he's in a position where he has the advantage at all, Jake is pretty lucky, he can probably come out on top. Although, what if the raiders he attack are actually part of one big raider organization and take him when he's off guard, and attack Rivet City with fire power Jake couldn't even imagine? Jake sat back up, and opened up the bottom drawer of his nightstand, and pulled out another .44 magnum from it, and placed it on the top of his nightstand. It was already loaded. Jake laid back down, and calmed himself. He took long, deep breaths. He eventually fell asleep.

Normally, Jake doesn't dream. He doesn't dream of anything. This time was different. He dreamt of Sarah's face, and she was holding her son and she whispered, "You're too late, Jake. You killed my son. You didn't make it there fast enough and now he's dead. How do you know those people there were the ones that killed him? How do you know you avenged my son's death?" And it repeated over and over, till finally someone woke him up. It was Mark, he had used an extra key to get into Jake's room.

"Jake, buddy, you and I are going on a mission." Mark said, shaking Jake awake.

"I was sleeping." Jake replied, pushing Mark away.

"No shit, friend, that's why I'm shaking you awake. Unless you want me to jump on your bed, I suggest you stand up and put your trench coat on. You don't look as bad ass without it." Mark threw Jake's trench coat at him, and Jake caught it. Jake chuckled a bit, stood up, and put it on. Mark handed Jake both his .44's, and this made Jake question a bit.

"So what kind of mission is this?" Jake asked.

"Search and Rescue, just like your last one." Mark replied.

"And you're coming with?"

"I don't really have a choice, Jake. This is a tough one, and I'm not letting you go alone."

"What are you bringing to the party?"

"Not much really. I got my twelve-gauge shotgun and a 10mm pistol."

"Meh, better than nothing I guess. What are we searching and rescuing?" Mark closed Jake's door.

"Another kid went missing. This time it was a little girl, Phoebe. You've met her, she's a little sweetheart."

"But she's only eight years old…" Jake was shocked, and almost shed another tear but held it back. He gripped onto his .44's really hard. He thought of Sarah's little boy, and wanted to leave right now and get to the bottom of this, but he needed to stay calm. He needed to relax. "How did she go missing?"

"Well, you don't know the whole story. Her dad had gone missing too, and two guards went to look for him, and found his body missing both legs and his right arm. Apparently Phoebe had gone with him. Now, you're probably asking yourself why the little girl went with anyway. Well, there original plan was not to go very far from Rivet City, but we assume raiders have gotten braver, and decided to close in on Rivet City, thus they found the girl and the dad, and taken them hostage. We also know that her dad was armed with a 10mm pistol, this same one I'm holding right now. I plan on killing anyone responsible with it. This is the second kid to have gone missing, and I plan on it being the last." Mark leaned against the wall, and noticed the mirror on the ground in the center of the room. He didn't notice it when he walked in. "How did that happen?"

"I tripped." Jake replied, looking down and hiding his hands.

"Okay… is there anything you want to talk about?" Mark said, trying to be comforting.

"No, I want to get out there. There's a little girl out there that needs are help." Mark nodded, and opened the door for Jake. Jake got up and walked straight outside Rivet City, and Mark followed closely behind. Jake thought of the first time he met Phoebe. Her parents let him hold her, which was the first sign to Jake that the people of Rivet City actually trusted him. When Jake walked outside Rivet City, Phoebe's mother was out there waiting for him. She rushed him, and put her arms around him, which came to a shock to Jake, he didn't notice her when he walked out. He hesitated to hug her back, but he did anyway.

"Please Jake, save my daughter, please…" and she started to cry, "I know you'll save her. I know you will. You were like an uncle to her."

Jake thought, "Me? Rotten old me? An uncle to an eight year old girl?" He never thought anyone would this so much of him. Most places rejected him, thought of him as trash. Jake realized it shouldn't come out as a shock to him. He spent thirteen years at Rivet City, making it stronger, and safer. He's glad he finally found some place that accepted him, and now he has to return the favor. He's going to find Phoebe, and he's going to bring her back. Alive. Jake whispered in her ear, "I'll bring your daughter back. I'm going to find her. I'm going to bring her back alive. Don't you worry. I'm going to bring Phoebe back to Rivet City alive." And he looked at Mark and asked, "Isn't that right Mark?"

Mark replied, "Sir! Yes Sir!" and saluted, "We'd better be going now. That clock is ticking." So Jake said his goodbyes, and walked off with Mark. They had no idea whether Phoebe was out there or not. But they were determined to find her, at least a clue. Something to reassure she was alive, and Jake was going to stop at nothing to redeem himself. He wanted to build up confidence for Rivet City, and bring back this girl would do this. It would also build up confidence for himself. He had to bring Phoebe back. He will bring phoebe back.

Mark and Jake kept heading North, till they come across the Anacostia Crossing, a metro station that a must in order to go further north. They walked down the stairs to the station gate.

"I'm not sure if we should do this, Jake." Mark complained, blocking Jake from opening the gate.

"Stop being such a baby, Mark. Nobody hides in these anymore. They're dusty, dirty, and sometimes irradiated." Jake explained, waiting for Mark to move.

"Yea but sometimes there are ghou-" Mark shut up, "Fine, let's get moving." They continued to move through the station till they got to a ticket booth. And they started to hear slow moving beeps at first, then they started beeping faster, and faster.

"What is that?" Jake said, looking up at the ceiling, but Mark realized it was coming from under them.

"Bottlecap mine! Jacob move!" Mark tackled Jake down, and the beeping got faster, then finally the heard an enormously loud "BOOOOOOOM!" and they waited till the smoke cleared.

"Don't ever call me Jacob again." Jake said, pushing Mark off of him.

"Sorry, I'll never do it again."

"Good. Now let's keep move-" Then a bullet grazed Jake's right leg. Bullets started flying over their heads, and Jake dragged Mark into the ticket booth. Mark started blind firing from the booth, and Jake tried peaking to find out where the bullets were coming from.

"We got three directly in front of us and four trying to flank us. I need to get a better firing position now cover me!" but Mark didn't respond, he was hiding his head and blind firing. Jake grabbed him by the shirt and took the 10mm pistol away from Mark, then put the gun into Mark's chest, "AIM! AND SHOOT! THE ONLY THING YOU'RE HURTING IS MY SELF ESTEEM!"

"Okay. Okay. I get it, aim and shoot!" Mark took the pistol back and started firing less blindly, and Jake rushed to a sand bag. His plan was to counter flank the four. Mark was currently grabbing their attention, and Jake slipped out of the booth. This was his moment. Jake vaulted over the sandbags, and seen the four dead ahead, and they saw him. Jake pulled his .44 and shot them down before they got a bead on him. Mark had taken down one of the three hiding behind a wall, and Jake flanked them and shot down the other two. Out of nowhere someone tried to sneak behind Jake, and Jake turned around and tripped him. The man was holding a monkey wrench. Jake cocked his .44 magnum and pointed it at the man's head and said, "I know what you're thinking. Did I fire six shots or only five? Well, punk. I'm holding a .44 Magnum, one of the most power handguns in the world and could blow your head clean off. You'd better ask yourself one question, 'Do I feel lucky?' Well let me answer that question for you. You don't. I'm Almighty Dirty Jake, It'll take a million low-life raiders such as yourself to kill me. I do every dirty job that comes around, just to kill guys like you. If you thought you and your friends could kill me and my closest friend, well, you had another thing coming." and Jake pulled the trigger, and sent the dumb ass raider to hell, and he surely won't be the last he sends to hell.

Mark had overheard what Jake said, and instead of sneaking up on Jake, he walked in front of Jake and commented on his performance, "Don't you think that was a little bit cold?"

Jake quickly replied, "I've said colder to dying men before." This had concluded the conversation. They walked out of the metro and it was almost dark.

"Perhaps we should make camp here." Mark suggested.

"Where do you think Phoebe is right now? A five-star hotel? No! She's probably being raped by raiders, and you want to stop now?" Jake had gotten right up in Mark's face, even spit on him a little. Mark had nothing to say. "We're going to keep walking." Jake said, while walking away at a calm pace, and Mark followed behind.

They continued to walk north, and they came across a small office building, and there were lighting shining out some of the windows. The closed in on the building, and just by listening you could tell raiders were inside, the snuck around, and found one of the windows were loose, sneaking inside would be a piece of cake. The room was completely pitch black, and total darkness wasn't very far away. Mark tried to maneuver himself toward the door so he could open it, but he ended up tripping, and breaking a lamp. Jake hid under one of the desks, and the door opened and a line shined through. Mark was in the wide open.

"Hey boss! We got an intruder!" the raider said, and Jake heard another very deep voice chuckle.

"This is great. Now we have another hostage!"

Jake thought, "Another hostage! That's great! That means Phoebe must be here!" They took Mark out of the room, and when the door shut Jake got up and quickly, and correctly, moved toward the door and waited for someone to pass the room again. It was about twenty minutes of patiently waiting. Jake lit a lantern, then footsteps started closing in. Jake wasn't a sneaky type, but he knew how to stay on the down low. Once he knew the person passed the door, Jake popped out and pulled his balisong, shoving into the man's neck, and threw him into the room. Jake shut the door and continued on. Now he had to save both Phoebe and Mark. He heard a scream, and walked toward the staircase. There were four floors, and it sounded like the scream came from the third floor. Jake knew it was Mark's scream. It had to be. Jake heard someone else coming down the staircase. So Jake decided to be stupid and rush up the stairs. He tackled the person and slit the raider's throat. Then ran up to the third floor door, it opened up to a hallway, and seen light coming from only one door, and it was wide open. He ran into the room, and seen Mark tied up in a chair. Blood was coming from his mouth and a gun was pointed at his nose, and mouth, and his left leg was in an odd position. The man with the deep voice was the one holding the gun.

"Your friend told me you were here." The man chuckled.

Jake thought to himself, "Great, Mark ratted me out… I wonder how much he told him."

The man started to speak again, "Almighty Dirty Jake, huh? Is that right? Is that what you call yourself? Mark told me what you are looking for. A girl named Phoebe? She's not here, sadly. I wish she were though, she sounds delicious." The man continued to chuckle.

"You bastard." Jake sighed. "Do you know where she is?" Jake demanded.

"Of course I do, although you won't get it out of me. I did tell your friend here though, it's too bad you won't get it out of him either. He'll be dead in a couple sec-" Then he fell over. Mark had tipped over too. Mark had flinched, but when he opened his eyes He seen Jake holstering his .44. Jake put Mark in the upright position, and untied him.

"Thank you, thank you so much, Jake. Dear god I thought he was going to kill me." Mark was out of breath.

Jake wanted to cut to the chase, "Did he really tell you where she was." Mark had to concentrate to remember.

"Sort of. He said she was with another group of raiders. Apparently they were going to sell her as a slave. He said they were North-East of here. But he could have been lying."

"No, he was way too dumb lie. We should head North-East. What do you think?"

"I have no other ideas. Let's do it." Then Mark tried to stand up, then he felt a sharp, aching pain in his left leg, "Jake" Mark gripped Jake's arm, "They broke my leg"

Then they started to hear footsteps run up the stairs. Jake assumed they probably heard the gunshots. He pulled both of his .44's, and Mark pulled his 10mm from his holster. Mark said, "Wow, he really was stupid. He forgot to confiscate this from me." The other raiders rushed in, and Jake and Mark shot them down one at a time. Once the wave was over, Jake took all the ammunition and other supplies they could take from the bodies, then Jake searched medicine cabinets and other places. He found a sticky note, and pencil. He wrote on the sticky note, "ALMIGHTY DIRTY JAKE WAS HERE!" then placed it on the boss' head, and placed him in the chair that Mark was tied up in. Mark had crawled to a corner, and motioned for Jake to come near him.

"Jake you need to leave me here." Mark said in agony.

"No, I'm not leaving you here. I don't leave my friends behind."

"Do you really expect to find Phoebe, and travel all the way we need to go when you have to carry me with you? It's impossible, and we can't turn back now we've gone way too far. I'll be fine. You can get me on your way back. Please, just leave me. Phoebe is waiting for you." Mark was right. If Jake wanted to find Phoebe, he had to leave Mark. Jake just stood there, looking at Mark with his broken leg.

"Okay, but I'll be back for you." Jake said, leaving a couple bottles of water and a can of Cram, and a can of Pork n' Beans.

"God. He left me the can of Cram because neither of us like it." Mark thought, and chuckled a bit. "Good luck, Jake." Mark said.

"This isn't goodbye, Mark. Like I said, I'm coming back to you once I find Phoebe." Jake said, reassuringly. Then he left the room, and brought back a lantern for Mark. "I'm going to turn off all the lights, if they do come back, kill them all."

"Of course." Mark said. Then Jake kneeled in front of him, and they shook hands. After that, Jake left, leaving his best friend.

Jake traveled for another six hours. If he had to guess, it was either five or six AM. He could see the GNR tower, which was behind him now, and he was heading East. He was surrounded by skyscrapers now, and Jake felt like they were all about to topple over him now. Jake heard grunting, footsteps, angry sounding people that were yelling for someone by the name of "Kiro". Jake snuck around and got a good visual of the people. They were raiders, fairly well armed too, almost fifteen of them. Jake doesn't usually interfere with other people's business, but it was clear the raiders weren't playing a normal game of hide and seek. If these raiders want to kill this Kiro guy, then Jake wanted to save him. Jake turned around and seen another group of raiders that were rushing toward him. He guessed around another thirteen raiders, who were yelling, "JAKE! ALMIGHTY DIRTY JAKE! YOU'RE A DEAD MAN!"

"Oh for the love of god." Jake said, and he made a careless move. He jumped from his hiding spot into plain sight, pulled his .44 and started firing blindly into the group behind him. This was going to be one hell of a fight. Perhaps it was meant to be. Luck doesn't last forever.

[END OF CHAPTER TWO]


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